


I Want You Even if the Sky isn't Blue

by fiorember



Series: Blaine and Company [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Play, Depression, Diapers, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Little!Blaine, M/M, Self-Harm, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiorember/pseuds/fiorember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine knows that he'll never get his daddy back. It's just something he has to deal with, but sometimes everything is too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby You're Cold Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Everything that is posted here is first posted as a rough draft on my livejournal account under the same username.

Blaine would be understating it if he said that he missed Kurt. Sometimes he missed him so much that it made his chest feel tight and his eyes sting with unshed tears. Blaine needed Kurt like he needed air, and their breakup was like someone had slapped their hand over his nose and mouth.

Blaine tried desperately to stay afloat. After all, he was the student council president, informal captain of the glee club, star member of the cheerios, and a part of almost every other school club. He just couldn’t afford to fall into the ever present spiral of depression. He’d done that exactly once before, after he and his friend were attacked after the Sadie Hawkins dance, and he never planned to go back to that.

Wishing that he could deal with his sadness in the same way that he did with he was still with Kurt was useless. Blaine couldn’t allow himself to do… _that_ with anyone else but Kurt, and doing it alone was more depressing than not doing it at all. Not to mention he might accidentally set the house on fire. He would have a hell of a time explaining that one to his parents.

Yet Blaine still longed for Kurt to wrap him in his favorite worn, blue blanket and press a kiss to his forehead and tell him that he was such a good boy. He wouldn’t get that again. He’d already resigned himself to that fate.

Blaine couldn’t help slipping, though. Sometimes, when everything was feeling like _too much_ and he couldn’t fall asleep, he would allow himself to suck his thumb. Sometimes he even let himself cuddle with Winkses, his stuffed elephant. Cartoons were a more regular thing, but they weren’t _just_ for kids, he reasoned. There were plenty of people who watched cartoons just for the fun of it, right?

The longing to slip under slowly picked away at Blaine’s cheerful demeanor until one day he woke up and felt utterly empty inside. He didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone go to school. Blaine hugged Winkses tightly to his chest and rolled onto his side. He had to be strong. Kurt would be able to do it.

Pushing himself into a sitting position was like climbing up a mountain, and walking to his bathroom to get ready was like running a marathon. By the time Blaine had finished getting dressed and gelling his hair, the clock read 7:15. If he didn’t leave soon he’d be late, as it took over half an hour to drive from his house to McKinley on a good day.

 Blaine carefully tucked Winkses under his pillow (he knew that nobody would poke around in his room given that his parents were off in Bermuda, but it was a force of habit) before grabbing his schoolbag and heading downstairs. He skipped breakfast; nausea was already rolling through his stomach.

The drive to McKinley was uneventful. Mostly he thought about what Kurt was doing in New York and if he thought about Blaine as much as Blaine thought about him. He had to stop that when he almost hit a squirrel.

By the time Blaine had parked and stopped by his locker, he was running a few minutes late. He slipped into his first period English class as the announcements ran in the background. Luckily, his teacher was grading papers and the class’s low chatter prevented anyone from really noticing him come in. Blaine huddled down into his seat and drifted throughout most of the class. When the bell finally rang, he hastily shoved everything into his bag and went to shut himself in a bathroom stall.

Blaine sat on top of the water tank and chewed on his thumbnail. Kurt would have a fit. He mentally slapped himself. Thinking of Kurt all the time only made everything hurt so much worse. Then again, it made him feel less empty inside. Blaine spent the remainder of the break fighting with himself about this and he still hadn’t made up his mind when the bell rang.

Calculus was much like English. He couldn’t make himself focus on derivatives or how to find the area under the curve of a graph. Blaine’s stomach was hurting much worse than it was before, but he couldn’t tell if it was from not eating breakfast that morning or from just feeling nauseous. Unfortunately, that question was answered at the next break when he had to speed walk into the nearest bathroom to promptly vomit into one of the toilets.

A whimper escaped Blaine’s throat and he fought back the urge to give in to the tears. It wasn’t like he could have his parents pick him up from school, and he didn’t think he would be able to drive himself home. To top it off, he had Glee club and cheerios practice after school, back to back. Blaine wiped his mouth with a paper towel and dug his fingernails into his palms. He would just have to tough it out. It wasn’t like anyone cared enough about him to help.

True to his word, Blaine did persevere throughout the rest of the day, although he was noticeably quieter during lunch.

“Are you feeling okay?” Tina asked, “You look a little pale.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You just want another excuse to assault him when he’s knocked out on cold medicine,” he accused 

Tina glared at Sam. “ _No_ , I’m just concerned for his wellbeing. But really, Blaine, maybe you should skip Glee and cheerios.”

Blaine shrugged. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth he might throw up again, but he didn’t want to ditch any practices. He couldn’t be more of a failure than he already ways.

Sam frowned. Now that he was done teasing Tina, Blaine did look a bit off. Blaine certainly _felt_ off.

“I’m fine,” he managed before clamping his mouth shut and disguising a gag by scratching his nose.

“Well, you don’t _look_ fine,” said Tina. She paused for a few more seconds, looking at Blaine critically, before returning to her usual chatter.

Sam kept eying Blaine in a way that felt like maybe he was breathing wrong. Luckily, Blaine didn’t have either of his last couple of classes with Sam, and he didn’t see him until Glee club. Blaine had been assigned a solo for the week, but after turning a spectacular shade of green and lunging for the nearest waste basket in the middle of the song, he was excused both from performing and the rest of the meeting.

“I’ll have someone send a note to Coach Sylvester. Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Schuester told him.

Blaine nodded, face flushed partly from throwing up and partly from being highly embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Mr. Schue, can I drive him home? He might upchuck on the wheel and cause a crash or something,” Sam interjected.

Blaine wanted to slam his head into a wall. He just wanted to be alone and watch a movie while wrapped in his blanket and cuddling Winkses.

After Mr. Schuester’s nod of approval, Sam led him to the car and held out his hand for Blaine’s keys.

“Really, Sam, I don’t need you to drive—” he tried.

“Dude, just stop. You look like walking hell. I’m driving you home,” Sam stated.

Sighing, Blaine handed over his keys and got into the passenger’s seat. As Sam pulled out of the parking lot, Blaine curled himself up onto the seat, resting his chin on his knees. He let his mind wander on the ride home, and it was… actually nice to not have to think about everything, if not for only half an hour.

His pensive mood was interrupted by Sam’s soft tap on his shoulder.

“Dude, we’re at your house… Do you need help in?” asked Sam.

Blaine shrugged. He didn’t want to trouble Sam, but now that someone finally seemed like maybe they cared… Being alone didn’t seem like that great of an idea anymore.

Sam rolled his eyes. Blaine was sometimes a bit of a doofus; even more than _Finn_ and that was saying something. He helped Blaine into the house when the other boy teetered dangerously in the driveway. If the dark circles under his friend’s eyes were anything to go by, he had not been getting much sleep lately which probably did not help.

“Thank you,” Blaine mumbled gratefully.

“No problem. What’re bros for?” Sam grinned. It quickly turned into a frown as he watched Blaine stumble up the stairs to his bedroom.

Blaine collapsed face first onto his bed, sighing deeply. He tried halfheartedly to kick off his shoes, but in the end he gave up and drifted off to sleep fully clothed. He’d probably regret it when he woke up, as sleeping in jeans was just about the most uncomfortable thing he could think of, but Blaine didn’t care. His thumb snuck up to his mouth as he slept, his snuffly breaths the sole source of noise in the room.

Sam had followed Blaine up to his bedroom to make sure he didn’t pass out in the hallway or anything, and he couldn’t help but think that sleepy Blaine was pretty damn adorable. He felt like maybe he should avert his eyes when Blaine started to suck on his thumb, but it somehow felt okay. Sam hadn’t ever seen anyone over the age of seven do that, but Blaine was _different_. He couldn’t put it into words, but it was there.

Sam tiptoed over to the bed to pull off Blaine’s shoes for him and cover him with a worn blue blanket that was bunched at the end of the bed. The other boy didn’t even stir as Sam quietly left the room.

The house was silent except for the sounds of Blaine breathing and the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the living room. It was a little bit eerie, and Sam wondered how Blaine could stand being alone in such a large house all the time. Even when Sam had moved in with the Hudmels for a couple months, he went to visit his family every weekend. Luckily, Sam’s family had moved back to Lima after the glee club had won nationals. He couldn’t imagine life without family.

Sam wandered down into the living room, looking around. For as long as he and Blaine had been friends, he’d only been to Blaine’s house a couple of times and only so that they could work on school projects together. Now that he was able to get a better look, Sam noticed that there were barely any family pictures around the house except for a scarce few, one of which showing Blaine as a toddler being held by Cooper with their parents standing on either side. All of them were smiling, but none of them looked very happy.

That was a bummer. Blaine didn’t often talk about his family aside from the occasional reference to his brother or to say that his parents had traveled to yet another foreign place. Sam sat down on the couch with a sigh, wondering what it must feel like to have _nothing_ to hold onto.

An hour later, Blaine woke up feeling very little. Not knowing that Sam was sitting in his living room, Blaine wandered downstairs with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his thumb in his mouth. He was hungry. Maybe Daddy would make him a snack?

He squeaked in surprise when he caught sight of his best friend, yanking his thumb out of his mouth quickly. Everything came rushing back. Blaine didn’t have a daddy anymore. He had been so bad that his daddy had left him. Blaine felt a lump growing in his throat and he tried to push it down.

Sam had been spacing for a while by the time Blaine came downstairs. He jumped when he heard Blaine squeak, eyes widening in surprise as he took in the picture before him. Blaine, wrapped up in a blanket, thumb still damp from being in his mouth, looking like he was going to burst into tears. He looked all of four years old.

“Hey, dude. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to be here,” Sam paused awkwardly then continued, “I didn’t want to, like, leave you alone when you were sick.”

Blaine didn’t say anything. His head was stuck somewhere between big and little, but not big enough to find a good reply. Instead, he cried, noisy sobs that made his stomach hurt.

Sam’s brow furrowed in concern. “Hey, Blaine, are you okay? I didn’t mean to upset you or anything, I just—”

He paused when Blaine stopped crying for a second and raised his watery eyes to meet Sam’s. Suddenly Blaine’s face screwed up into a wail.

“I w-want my daddy,” Blaine cried before falling into noisy sobs again. He just wanted his Kurt. His Daddy would make it better. Kurt would make it better. He was confused and he wanted his Daddy to fix it.

Sam stood, transfixed. Blaine wanted his daddy? Sam opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to come up with something to say. He failed. What the hell just happened?

Blaine held his blanket tighter around his shoulders and sank onto the floor. Standing up was too big of a chore. His daddy had gone away and Blaine was alone. Another part of his mind screamed at him to just _get out_ because this was going to be so hard to explain later on, but that part of him wasn’t loud enough.

Curling onto his side, Blaine whimpered, “I want Daddy, I want Kurt” over and over again.

Realization dawned on Sam, bringing a blush to his cheeks. _Oh_. Daddy was… Kurt. Sam didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t very well pull Kurt out of thin air and he didn’t want to leave Blaine alone like this. Something told him that could be hazardous.

“Blaine, please calm down, dude. I’m going… I’m going to call Kurt. Just stop crying, okay?” Sam pleaded, pulling out his phone.

He quickly scrolled through his contacts until he found Kurt. Pressing the send button, Sam prayed that Kurt would pick up. _Please pick up, please pick up_ , he chanted in his mind.

The click of the phone being answered, followed by Kurt’s voice. “Hello?”

_Thank God._

“Kurt!” Sam almost cried in relief.

Several seconds of silence had Sam feeling uneasy again. “Um… Hello?” he asked tentatively.

“Sam? What’s wrong? I can hear crying in the background. Did you kill one of your siblings?”

The teasing tone in Kurt’s voice was laced with uncertainty. It sounded a lot like… a Blaine tantrum. But Blaine wasn’t—he couldn’t be.

“No! I didn’t kill anyone!” Sam said indignantly. “It’s Blaine, he’s flipping out. He—he asked for you.” Sam trailed off awkwardly. He wasn’t sure how the hell he was supposed to address this. You weren’t just supposed to tell your friend that your other friend called them daddy, right? That was like an invasion of privacy or something. Maybe it was even illegal. Sam didn’t know, but it would have been weird.

“Oh,” Kurt paused. “Are you going to give him the phone or do I have to fly to Lima?”

Sam rolled his eyes, going over to Blaine. He’d forgotten how bitchy Kurt could be.

He tried to stay out of range of the flailing limbs. When had _that_ happened? Sam was pretty sure Blaine might end up injuring himself if he carried on kicking like that. Plus, his parents had some expensive looking figurines on a table not too far from Blaine’s thrashing legs. That would not be good.

“Blaine,” Sam tried. When that didn’t get the other boy’s attention, he raised his voice. “Blaine!”

Blaine didn’t stop crying, but he rolled onto his back so that he was glaring up at Sam, coughing from crying too hard.

“Kurt wants to talk to you, dude. I’ll… I’ll just put it on speaker and put it next to you.”

Sam did just that, setting his phone next to Blaine’s head before mumbling something about making a sandwich and shuffling into the kitchen. He hummed to himself, trying not to listen to the conversation in the other room.

“Blaine?” Kurt sounded static-y through the phone, but it was his voice. Blaine scrambled for the phone, turning it off speaker and cradling it close to his ear.

“Da-Kurt?” he sniffled, sticking the thumb of his free hand into his mouth.

“You leaveded me,” he whimpered.

Kurt sighed. He thought that they had been on good terms. The last time Kurt had spoken to Blaine, he sounded okay. He had _said_ he was okay. Rubbing a hand across his forehead, Kurt closed his eyes.

“Blaine, we’ve gone over this,” he said. Kurt’s worn out sounding voice made Blaine burst into another round of tears. Kurt didn’t even care about him. Nobody cared and it _wasn’t fair_.

“You leaveded me all ‘lone wifout you,” Blaine accused. “You not care ‘bout me no more. You has Adam now ‘cause I’s baaaaaaad.”

Blaine’s head felt _fuzzy_ and his tummy felt _funny_ and it was all _too much_ for him to handle. His Kurt was in New York and he didn’t need Blaine. Nobody needed Blaine when they all had someone else that was better than him. He could barely register Kurt trying to console him over the phone, and all at once he felt like he was going to be sick.

Blaine scrambled to his feet, accidentally bumping into one of the oak side tables. He whined at the pain in both his leg and his stomach and stumbled towards the bathroom, hand pressed over his mouth. He didn’t make it. Suddenly, Blaine was throwing up on the polished tiles of the bathroom floor.

Sam had really been trying to drown out any noise coming from the living room. Really, he did try. But when he heard Blaine knock into something, he couldn’t help but go see what was wrong. Blaine wasn’t in the living room, though. Sam’s phone was on the ground, and he could hear Kurt saying Blaine’s name over and over.

He bent over to pick up the phone. “Blaine? Blaine, are you there? Hello? Is everything okay?”

 A retching sound made Sam’s stomach clench unpleasantly. Well, he had figured out where Blaine was at least.

“Kurt?” Sam asked.

“Oh, thank god. Is Blaine okay?”

“Well, uh, I think he’s throwing up right now, so. Hold on a second,” said Sam, heading towards the bathroom. Kurt said something that he didn’t really hear.

Sam pushed open the door to find Blaine covered in vomit. Oh god, it was all over his hands and on his shirt _and_ on the floor. Resisting the urge to slam the door shut and get away from the mess, Sam walked slowly towards Blaine like he would with a scared animal.

Blaine felt absolutely miserable, and he looked it too. Everything hurt and nothing was good. He couldn’t stop crying, but that made his stomach hurt even more. No wonder that Kurt didn’t want to be his daddy anymore. He was too gross to be loved. Blaine wanted to curl into a ball and maybe stop existing.

Except Sam was walking towards him. Maybe he was going to hit him like his dad did sometimes. Cringing, Blaine closed his eyes and waited for the worst. He deserved it anyways. He deserved to be hit for being so disgusting.

“Blaine?” Sam asked tentatively. Something was _off_ about Blaine, and not just the obvious being sick and… other things. Blaine didn’t usually cringe away from him like that.

A whimper and a tiny sob from his best friend had Sam even more worried. He could sense that something was seriously wrong. Blaine was acting like… like Sam was going to hit him or something.

“J-just hit me. You’re going to do it anyways, so just hit me,” Blaine whispered, barely able to constrict the sadness and the _anger_ that he felt. That surprised him. The fact that he was actually mad—no, not just mad, enraged—had him afraid. That only reassured him that he needed to hurt.

Even as he flinched away from Sam, Blaine pleaded with his friend to get it over with. He was so sure that Sam was angry with him. The only thing worse would be for Sam to pretend that he wasn’t upset. It always came out later in an even more violent way.

Staring at Blaine with wide eyes, Sam raised his phone to his ear.

“He—he’s asking me to hit him, Kurt. Why is he asking for that? What’s wrong with him?”

_What’s wrong with him?_ The words made Blaine wince like he’d had a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. _What’s wrong with him?_ What _was_ wrong with him? He couldn’t do this to Sam, that wasn’t fair. Blaine wanted to run, but Sam was blocking the door, so he settled for clambering backwards into the bathtub. Tears sprung to his eyes when he accidentally smacked his elbow on the frosted glass, but he tried not to cry. Crying was for babies and he was supposed to be big.

“Shit,” Kurt hissed, thinking fast. “Blaine—well, he’s different right now and he needs—just try to comfort him. I know that it’s a lot to ask and you can say no, but can you stay with him? Please? I’m afraid he might—” Kurt cut off. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what Kurt was afraid of.

“Yeah. I’ll stay with him. I can’t leave my best bro alone covered in puke,” said Sam.

“Thank you so much. I’m going to call Finn and he’ll be over in maybe—forty five minutes? Just, thank you, Sam,” Kurt said, sounding relieved that Sam wasn’t going to leave Blaine alone. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I have a class right now and—”

“It’s okay, Kurt. I can handle this. Thanks for your help, dude.”

Sam hung up, setting his phone on the counter. Blaine had moved himself into the bathtub, and Sam could see that he was huddled over by the faucet. Avoiding the vomit that was still on the floor, Sam made his way over to Blaine. After a moment of hesitation, he climbed into the bathtub and sat cross legged next to the shaking boy.

“I sorry—I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be so bad, sorry,” Blaine rambled. He wanted to suck on his thumb, but his hands were all gross and everything was still bad. He dug his fingernails into his palms, trying to punish himself for being such a horrible friend.

Suddenly, Blaine felt warm hands over his own, prying his fingers away from his palms. Blaine whimpered, trying to resist, but he couldn’t really do anything. He was just too exhausted.

“Don’t do that, dude. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” said Sam softly.

Ignoring the vomit, Sam pulled Blaine closer to him, tucking the other boy’s head to his chest, much like he would with his little brother or sister. Blaine was stiff at first, but after minute Sam could feel him melting against him.

“’m sorry. Sorry I made you—shoulda been big. Not fair,” Blaine whispered, letting the comfort of Sam’s arms pull him up from the sad a little bit.

“It’s okay,” said Sam.

He wasn’t _entirely_ in the dark about what was going on. He was a teenage boy with internet after all, but he’d never actually seen it in real life or really looked into it. Sam had decided that age play wasn’t his thing, but something about Blaine being so vulnerable made it so that didn’t matter. “You can be as little as you need to be.”

Blaine turned so he could look up at Sam with impossibly huge eyes. “Y-you’re okay with it? You not think ‘m a freak?” Blaine asked uncertainly.

Giving Blaine a half smile, Sam ruffled his hair where the gel had come out. “I could never think you’re a freak, dude. You’re still my best friend.”

Blaine nodded, burying his face back in Sam’s chest. He was still caught between trying to be big and feeling little and it was making his head hurt. Eventually, the discomfort of being in limbo and from still being covered in his own vomit drove him to push himself off Sam.

“I shower now?”  Blaine asked, staring at his hands. He didn’t feel big enough to clean himself up, but he couldn’t let Sam help. That would be too far.

Sam nodded. “Sure, dude. I’m gonna clean up your floor then you can take a shower, okay?”

Blaine shook his head vehemently. “No, I clean up. Is—it’s my mess,” he protested, trying to clamber out of the bathtub.

Sam caught him when he almost fell because of a sudden dizzy spell, setting him gently on the closed toilet seat.

“Hey, careful. It’s fine, I can clean up. Just try not to pass out on me, okay?” Sam said, digging through the cabinet under the sink and pulling out paper towels and spray cleaner.

Feeling too shitty to really argue any more, Blaine nodded, slumped down on the toilet. His _everything_ ached and he wished his daddy was there to rub his back and give him head scratches. Blaine felt tears pricking in his eyes again and angrily rubbed them away. He was done crying! Crying was for dumb babies who were too gross and naughty to do anything useful.

Trying not to cry wasn’t working. Blaine’s entire chest felt tight from the effort and he could feel his breaths quickening. This was usually where Daddy would rock him and tell him to breathe. Blaine tried, but it was too hard.

Sam had finished cleaning up the floor and had left the bathroom to throw away the dirty paper towels. On a whim, he went upstairs to Blaine’s bedroom to grab his friend a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He tried not to look at too much of Blaine’s other belongings. It was _weird_ going through his friend’s dresser. Who knew what could be in there?

By the time Sam returned, Blaine had slid onto the floor, resting his head against the cool side of the bathtub, arms wrapped around his knees and partially obscuring his face. Upon closer inspection, Sam saw that Blaine’s breathing looked kind of fast. _Oh god, don’t be having a heart attack_.

“Blaine! Don’t die on me, dude!” said Sam, dropping the clothes and crouching next to the panicking boy.

Sam tried to get Blaine to remove his face from his arms, but he wouldn’t budge. Shit, his friend was going to die from a heart attack!

“Uh, try to keep breathing, okay? Don’t pass out and… and don’t let your heart stop or anything.”

All of a sudden Sam found himself with a lapful of Blaine. Blaine was wiping his snotty nose on his shirt, which was kind of gross, but Sam was just glad his best friend was alive. _Thank god_.

Oh. Blaine was crying again. _Hard_. Rocking his body as soothingly as possible, Sam murmured random nonsense into Blaine’s ear, trying to get him to calm down. He did _not_ want another puking episode. Finally Blaine’s sobs slowed to occasional hiccups.

“S—sorry,” Blaine whispered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” said Sam quietly, pausing. “Didn’t you want to shower?”

Blaine was caught off guard. It was too much whiplash to deal with, trying to be big for Sam but feeling so small. He nodded hesitantly. Sam helped him stand up, turning on the taps for him and leaving him to undress and bathe himself, swiping his phone from the counter as he left the room.

_Dude, can you bring me a new shirt? Mine has snot all over it. Thanks._

Sam sent the text to Finn, sitting at the bar to wait for Blaine.

Blaine almost fell asleep in the shower twice. He bumped his shin in the faucet three times and got soap in his eyes once. Showering was hard. Blaine closed his eyes, letting the hot water run over him. He kept turning it up, trying to make himself feel clean. It wasn’t working, so Blaine rubbed at the skin on his stomach and chest with a washcloth until it felt raw. When the water ran cold, he dried himself off, putting on the clothes that Sam had brought him earlier.

The hardwood floors were cold under Blaine’s bare feet, and he regretted that he didn’t have a pair of socks present. Daddy always made him wear socks because he thought Blaine’s feet got too cold. He didn’t even let Blaine wear shoes without them, which was ridiculous. Shoes did _not_ need socks.

Sam waited. And waited. Man, Blaine sure did take long showers. After what felt like a million years of waiting, the doorbell rang. The doorbell? Oh. Sam had forgotten about Finn coming.

“Hey,” said Sam, opening the door. “Blaine’s taking a shower.”

Setting down a leather messenger bag that didn’t really look like something he would carry, Finn nodded. From what Kurt had told him, the little boy was going through some tough stuff. It was that moment that Blaine chose to walk out of the bathroom. His face lit up some as he trotted over to his Uncle Finn for a hug.

“Hey, kiddo. I heard you aren’t feeling too well?” Finn asked, rubbing Blaine’s back.

“Nuh uh. Feels icky,” Blaine mumbled, blushing when he remembered Sam was there.

As if he knew exactly what Blaine was thinking, Finn pulled away to look seriously at the boy’s face. “Hey, it’s okay. You can be whatever you want right now, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Sam interjected. “I’m cool with whatever.”

“You not hafta stay,” said Blaine quietly, sparing a quick glance at Sam.

Finn nodded, saying, “I can take care of him for a while if you have things to do. I have this whole week off for spring break.”

“No, I can stay,” insisted Sam. “My parents had my brother and sister stay at my Aunt’s house so they could go on vacation for the weekend.”

“Okay, dude,” said Finn. “Oh, I brought you a shirt,” he added, tossing Sam the McKinley High phys. ed. t-shirt.

“Thanks,” said Sam, pulling off his snotty shirt and pulling on Finn’s. He saw Blaine staring out of the corner of his eye and reflected that maybe he should have gone to the bathroom or something to change.

“Alright, little guy, when’s the last time you ate?” Finn asked Blaine.

Blaine shrugged, sneaking his thumb up towards his mouth. He hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before and that was only a few crackers. He didn’t think Uncle Finn would like that. He and Kurt were strict when it came to eating.

“That’s not an answer, Blaine,” said Finn calmly. “How about we try that again.”

“Yesterday,” Blaine whispered, tearing up. “Wasn’t hungry an’ then I getted pukey.”

Finn frowned. Not this again. Blaine’s habit of not eating was how Finn had found out about everything in the first place. He’d never wanted to know about his little brother’s sex life, but it turned out it wasn’t about sex. After seeing Blaine so open and happy with Kurt, he understood why Blaine needed it.

“Okay, kiddo. How about we try some soup. Can you eat some soup for me?” Finn asked gently, hauling Blaine up onto his hip.

Damn, either Finn was stronger than he looked or Blaine was really light. Sure, Blaine was quite a bit shorter than Finn, but it still surprised Sam when Finn had picked the boy up so easily.

Blaine blushed brightly, hiding his face in Finn’s shoulder. “Uh huh. But not too much, Uncle Finn? Please?”

“You just need to get some food into your body,” Finn hedged. Saying specific amounts was never good because then Blaine wouldn’t eat any more than that even if he was still hungry.

Finn sat Blaine down in a chair at the table and went about heating up some canned soup. Kurt would have been able to make the homemade chicken noodle that Blaine loved so much, but if Finn tried that, he was pretty sure he might set the house on fire.

Sam slid into a chair next to Blaine. Finn actually seemed like he was okay—even good at—handling Blaine, despite seeming like he might be the type of person who would accidentally let kids play with knives.

“So, Uncle Finn, huh?” questioned Sam.

“Uh huh. Da—Kurt sometimes useda have Uncle Finn play wif me when he hadda do homeworks,” said Blaine. 

Finn turned from his spot in front of the stove to nod in agreement. “Yeah. It was… kind of a mistake, but little Blaine’s too adorable to deny babysitting.”

Blushing, Blaine rested his throbbing head on the table. Before he knew it, a bowl of soup was being set in front of him.

“Time to eat, buddy,” said Finn gently. “Do you need help?”

Shaking his head fervently, Blaine picked up the spoon and stirred it around a little bit. He didn’t want to eat, but he didn’t want Uncle Finn to be mad at him. Biting his lip, Blaine stirred some more.

“Honey, if you can only play with your food I think you need help,” warned Finn.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Blaine. Finn sounded like he was really serious. Kind of like when Sam’s mom lectured him for leaving his socks under the kitchen table.

“I don’t _like_ soup,” muttered Blaine petulantly, knocking his spoon on the table.

Finn’s hand covered Blaine’s, preventing him from banging it against his table again. “We’re not going to do this, Blaine. You’re going to eat your soup. It’s not up for discussion.”

Lower lip trembling, Blaine let go of his spoon and drew his knees up to his chest. He sniffled pathetically. It was too _hard_ , and he couldn’t _handle_ it.

“Hey, dude, it’s just soup,” coaxed Sam.

Finn sighed, picking up the spoon and taking a seat next to Blaine. “Half a bowl, munchkin, then you can take a nap. I’m gonna help you, okay?”

Blaine nodding, hiccupping. “’kay,” he mumbled, accepting a spoonful of soup from Finn.

Seeing Finn take care of Blaine like that made Sam feel all sappy inside. As much as Sam wanted to help Blaine feel better, he was relieved that Kurt had called in Finn. Finn fell into his role like it was nothing, and Blaine needed the structure that Finn could provide.

“No more,” Blaine pleaded, turning his head when Finn held another spoonful to his lips.

Considering the almost half eaten bowl of soup, Finn nodded. “Okay, you can be done. Nap time, now, munchkin.”

Blaine allowed Finn to pick him up, letting his eyes drift shut. A nap sounded really nice, and maybe Finn would read him a story. Kurt used to read him stories over Skype before bed before the breakup, but that was a long time ago. Just the memory of the comfort it gave him made something deep in Blaine’s chest ache.

“Do you want me to come help?” asked Sam, standing awkwardly by his chair.

Blaine’s eyes widened, shaking his head. Unfortunately, little Blaine wasn’t so good at keeping his pants dry at night and during naps. That just wasn’t something Blaine was comfortable sharing quite yet.

“Okay. I’ll just… wait in the living room,” said Sam, shuffling over to the couch. Maybe Finn would fill him in after Blaine was asleep.

“We’ll be right back,” said Finn, bouncing Blaine a little.

On his way upstairs, Finn snagged the leather bag from by the door, slinging it over his shoulder. The sight of the bag had Blaine blushing yet again. Once they had arrived in Blaine’s bedroom, Finn dropped the little boy on the bed, making him giggle. Opening the bag, Finn fished out a pull-up

“Do you want help, munchkin?” he asked gently. Normally the answer would be yes, but Finn decided to make sure given the circumstances.

Blaine answered with a shrug. It was weird; he hadn’t gotten to be little for so long and suddenly Finn, co-director of the Glee club, was _Uncle_ Finn again. Blaine stuck his thumb in his mouth, staring at Finn with wide eyes.

Finn decided to take that as a yes. Helping the exhausted boy out of his pants and into the pull-up, Finn pulled back the covers and helped Blaine into bed. The sight of the raw skin on Blaine’s  stomach made Finn’s stomach turn. He didn’t say anything, though. He wanted Blaine to stay calm.

“Do you want a story, buddy?” asked Finn, handing Winkses over to Blaine’s outstretched arms.

“Uh huh. Velveteen Rabbit, Uncle Finn? Please?” Blaine asked, cuddling Winkses close to his face.

Finn smiled. _The Velveteen Rabbit_ was Blaine’s favorite story. “There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.”


	2. One More Spoon (Of Cough Syrup)

After Blaine had drifted off to sleep (it hadn’t taken long; the little boy was exhausted), Finn tucked the book back into Kurt’s leather bag and headed downstairs to talk with Sam. He sighed. Explaining his little brother’s relationship with Blaine to another person was… awkward. It wasn’t something he’d _ever_ thought he’d have to do, but Kurt had asked him to give Sam enough information so he wasn’t completely lost. Finn supposed he could do that much for Kurt and Blaine.

Sam looked up when he heard Finn coming down the stairs. He sat up a little straighter. Even though it was weird, Sam was curious to know more about this. And why was Blaine so sad? Sure, he and Kurt had a bad breakup, but people weren’t normally _this_ sad, right? And what was his deal with food? Last time he had checked, it was Blaine telling _him_ that it was okay to eat and not care about his body once in a while.

“So,” Sam started. “What’s up?”

Finn shrugged. “Blaine’s asleep,” he said bluntly.

“I meant with everything,” said Sam, trying not to roll his eyes. He couldn’t tell if Finn was being purposely obtuse or not.

“Oh. Well,” said Finn, sitting down in the dark leather armchair next to the couch. “I think… you already know Kurt and Blaine… they weren’t _just_ boyfriends.”

“Yeah. I got that. Kurt’s Blaine’s ‘daddy’?” he clarified. The whole thing was a bit mind boggling.

“Was. I didn’t know—I thought everything had stopped when Kurt went to New York, you know? It’s kinda hard to be someone’s daddy in a different state. Guess I was wrong, though,” Finn trailed off, face taking on his trademark baffled look.

“I guess so…” Sam stared at his hands for a few seconds. “Was Blaine abused?” he blurted out. His friend’s behavior in the bathroom earlier was concerning.

Finn looked surprised. “I don’t think so? But Kurt didn’t tell me everything. Why?”

“Before you came, he, uh, threw up on himself. He asked me to hit him,” said Sam, frowning.

“Oh,” said Finn, brow furrowed.

He knew that Blaine struggled with depression, and with it self-harm and a slight eating disorder, but he didn’t think he had ever asked someone else to hurt him before. Finn knew how much Kurt had been hurt when Blaine cheated on him, but sometimes he wished they would just get back together. The two of them were so lost without each other. Kurt was just better at hiding it.

Sam was quiet for a while, and Finn was just about to say something to break the silence when Sam spoke up.

“So what next?” he asked. “How long is he going to be like this?”

Finn shrugged. “I dunno. The most that I’ve seen him be little was for a weekend, but I think he and Kurt sometimes did it longer over breaks.”

Frowning, Sam rested his chin on his palm. It was the Thursday before their Spring break started and the likeliness of Blaine being well enough to go back to school the next day was little to none.

“Are you gonna stay here with him? Until he’s… normal again?”

Finn considered the question for a few seconds. To be honest, he didn’t really know. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see. I don’t think I can take him back to my house… Burt and all,” he reasoned.

“I can skip school to stay with him,” said Sam hopefully. He had an algebra test the next day that he wouldn’t mind missing.

Finn gave him a suspicious look. “You can’t miss school dude. Your education is, like, important for your future and stuff.”

Sam huffed. When had Finn become such a stiff?

Blaine woke up a few hours later, rolling over to find that he was wet. Making a face, Blaine sat up, clutching Winkses to his chest.

“Uncle Finn?” he called. He did _not_ want to go downstairs to get Uncle Finn to change him. Sam was still there. That was just embarrassing.

A couple minutes later, Finn came up the stairs to find his suspicious were correct. The little boy was slumped against the pillows, stuffed elephant in his arms and thumb in his mouth. Dark circles outlined Blaine’s eyes, which, coupled with his unnaturally pale skin, made him look almost ghostly.

“Hey, munchkin. Did you call for me?” Finn asked, sitting on the bed next to Blaine and pulling him so he was half on his lap.

Blaine nodded, not removing his thumb from his mouth. “’m wet,” he mumbled, blushing.

“Alright, kiddo, how about we get you into some dry pants and check your temperature, huh?” narrated Finn, going back into Kurt’s bag to fish out the changing supplies.

Blaine made a face. He didn’t want his temperature taken, ‘cause then he’d have to take the icky medicine that was supposed to make him feel better (but really it just made him feel gaggy).

Laying the changing pad on the bed, Finn helped Blaine lay down. He got to work changing the little boy, who was surprisingly well behaved for the entire ordeal. Usually Blaine was wiggly.

“No pull-up, Uncle Finn! Wanna watcha movie,” Blaine protested when Finn started to tug another pull-up onto him.

“It’s pretty late, munchkin…” said Finn, glancing at the digital clock by Blaine’s bed. It was past 9:30, Blaine’s usual bedtime when he was little. Then again, he _had_ been sleeping a lot. Kurt probably wouldn’t allow Blaine to watch a movie so late, but he was Uncle Finn and Uncle Finn was supposed to be more fun than Daddy. Plus, Blaine was giving him the puppy eyes. Finn hoped to god he wouldn’t regret this.

“You can watch one movie, buddy, but we’re leaving the pull-up on in case you fall asleep,” he said.

Blaine would cheer but his head hurt too much. “Fank you,” he said quietly, closing his eyes when Finn had finished putting everything away and hauled him onto his hip.

“You’re welcome, kiddo,” said Finn, bouncing Blaine slightly as they went downstairs.

“You gonna stay here tonight?” Blaine asked.

Finn paused before answering. “Yeah, I’m gonna stay here with you tonight, munchkin,” he said, rubbing the little boy’s back and continuing down the stairs.

Sam glanced over at the two of them when they entered the living room then went back to watching the episode of Hoarders that he’d found. There was a lady eating nail polish! Some people were just crazy.

“Hey!” grumbled Sam when Finn changed the channel. “I was watching that.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Blaine wants to watch a movie, and Hoarders is definitely not Daddy approved. Trust me, I checked. Kurt almost slit my throat.”

He’d watched exactly one episode with little Blaine and it had ended in an emergency room visit, a weepy Blaine, and a very upset Kurt. It was not an experience Finn was eager to repeat.

Settling Blaine on the couch, Finn flipped through the channels until he found 101 Dalmatians. He was going to have the Cruella DeVille song stuck in his head for weeks, he just knew it. Once Finn was sure that Blaine was pleased with the movie choice, he went into the bathroom to search for a thermometer. He reemerged shortly after, ear thermometer in hand.

Luckily, Blaine was too absorbed in the movie to really put up a fight about getting his temperature taken. Finn raised his eyebrows at the reading when the thermometer beeped. About 102 for both ears.

“Munchkin, where do you keep the cold medicine?” he asked.

Blaine shrugged, not looking away from the movie. They only had the gross syrup kind. Maybe if he didn’t answer, Finn would just give up...

“Blaine Devon Anderson, tell me where the cold medicine or you’re getting a time out,” Finn said sternly. He knew that look. Blaine definitely knew where the medicine was.

Pouting, Blaine muttered, “Top shelf in the med’cine cabinet upstairs.”

Sam snickered, and Blaine stuck his tongue out at him.

“Not fair,” Blaine sulked. “Cold med’cine is icky.”

“It totally is, dude, but you gotta take something to help you get better, right? Unless you want to stay sick _forever_ …” said Sam, making a face.

Blaine giggled, giving Sam a look like maybe he was a little dim. “’m not gonna stay sick forever if’n I don’t take med’cine, Sam!”

“You don’t know that. You could just stay sick forever and ever. Imagine all the snot, dude,” said Sam in a wondrous tone.

Blaine stuck out his tongue. “Eww! That’s gross. I not wanna be a snot monster,” he said seriously. Sam was probably bluffing, but what if he was right? What if Blaine _never_ got better and he turned into a giant snot monster? That would be so gross!

“A snot monster?” laughed Finn when he came back downstairs. Sam was actually pretty good with Blaine, but maybe that was because Sam was kind of goofy.

“I not a snot monster, Uncle Finn!” Blaine squealed, giggling.

Sam laughed. “You _could_ be though, if you don’t take your medicine.”

“Speaking of medicine, I have some for you right here, munchkin,” said Finn, pouring some of the offending syrup into a plastic cup.

Blaine whined the entire time he was drinking it, but drink he did. Snot monsters were a very serious matter.

Sputtering from the bad taste, Blaine gave the cup back to Finn. “I has juice now, please?” he asked.

“You can definitely have some juice,” said Finn.

Sam was surprised when Finn came back with a sippy cup. Where had that come from? He was relatively certain that Blaine didn’t just keep them in his cupboards. Maybe it came from that leather bag of mysteries Finn had earlier.

Blaine accepted the juice with a tired thank you before he returned to watching the movie. He got all the way to the puppies being rescued before he finally nodded off. Finn took the now empty sippy cup from Blaine’s slack hands and held it out to Sam.

“Can you wash this out for me? I’m gonna put him back to bed,” he said as Sam took the plastic cup, lifting Blaine so he was snuggled against his shoulder.

Blaine murmured something that sounded like puppies and spaceships, but Finn couldn’t be sure. After he had carried Blaine up to bed and had tucked him in with Winkses and his blanket, Finn sent a quick text to his mom to let her know he was staying over at Blaine’s.

Sam washed the sippy cup and set it on the counter to dry. He leaned against the counter, thinking. There was school the next day, but it was kind of late to drive all the way home. Maybe he’d stay the night then go back home early in the morning to shower and stuff. That sounded like a pretty good idea. Sam was roused from his self-congratulations when Finn plodded into the kitchen.

“So, I’m staying the night… You have a ride home, right?” Finn asked, glancing at the microwave clock. It was kind of late to be going back to Lima. Sam might fall asleep at the wheel and die or something.

“I was thinking I’d just kind of crash here for the night and maybe you drive me back home early in the morning? I drove Blaine here so I don’t have a car… I mean, if that’s okay,” Sam clarified.

Finn looked relieved. “Yeah, dude, that’s cool. I dug some blankets out of the linen closet upstairs,” he said, offering one of the blankets to Sam.

“Thanks,” replied Sam, going into the living room and laying down on the one of the couches. Leather wasn’t that fun to sleep on, but he’d live. He was out before he knew it; apparently hanging out with little Blaine was more tiring than he had thought.

Finn lay awake after Sam had fallen asleep. Should he ask Kurt to come out to Lima? He was just finishing up his midterms and then he was on spring break. Kurt definitely had the _time_ to come, but was it fair to ask him to? Finn cared about his little brother a lot, but he also loved Blaine just as much. Just, differently. He fell asleep with the resolve that he would ask Kurt to come back to Ohio for Blaine after all.


	3. Waking Up

When Finn awoke the next morning, Sam was already up and waiting for him. He ran upstairs to scrawl a quick note in case Blaine woke up when he was gone, and then he was out the door. By some miracle, Blaine slept for another three hours, which gave Finn plenty of time to drop off Sam, stop by the Hudmel house, and snag the Xbox from his dorm. 

“Hey munchkin. It’s time to get up so we can get your temperature,” said Finn quietly, rubbing Blaine gently on the back.

Blaine grumbled, rolling onto his back to blink blearily at Finn. “No feels good,” he whined, shutting his eyes again. He wanted to suck his thumb, but his nose was too stuffed up to be able to breathe properly. 

Finn frowned when he saw that Blaine’s brow was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. He pressed a hand to the little boy’s flushed cheek, forehead wrinkling in concern. 

“Oh, munchkin, you can go back to sleep after I take your temp, okay?” reassured Finn, picking up the ear thermometer. Blaine’s temperature definitely felt like it had gone up. He braced himself for the worst as he waited for the thermometer to beep. 

103\. Shit, that was pretty high, right? If it went up anymore, he’d probably have to take Blaine into the doctors or something. 

“I’ll be right back, kiddo. I’m gonna get you a Tylenol, then we’re going to change you into some dry pants and you can go back to sleep,” said Finn, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

Blaine didn’t answer, already falling back to sleep.

After rummaging around the medicine cabinet for a few minutes, Finn found a bottle of Tylenol. He tipped two into his hand and went downstairs to get a sippy cup for Blaine to take the medicine with. He headed quickly back upstairs to find Blaine asleep again.

Shaking Blaine’s shoulder slightly, Finn coaxed the little boy awake. “I have some medicine for you to take, munchkin,” he said, helping Blaine sit up against his pillows. 

Handing Blaine the pills and the sippy cup, Finn made sure he swallowed both pills. Sometimes Blaine got all weird when he was sick and tried to fake taking his medicine. It seemed pretty useless to Finn, but then again he was the one who still avoided cashews like the plague. Having fourteen cashews shoved up your nose did something to a person. 

“Wet, Uncle Finn,” mumbled Blaine, slumped against the pillows. 

“I think we can fix that, can’t we? Let’s get you into some dry pants,” said Finn, laying out the changing pad and lifting Blaine so that he was positioned on top of it. He made quick work of changing Blaine into a new pull-up then positioned him back under the blankets. 

“Try and finish your water, munchkin,” said Finn. “You need to drink a lot of liquids to help you get better.”

Blaine didn’t argue. He felt too icky to put up a good fight. Obligingly, Blaine drank the rest of his water then groped around for Winkses. Finn smiled, handing over the stuffed elephant. 

“I’ll be back to take your temp again in a couple hours,” he said, but Blaine was already asleep. 

Finn sighed fondly. Even though little Blaine could be a pain in the ass sometimes, he was mostly affectionate and adorable. Finn had missed being Uncle Finn. He wondered if Kurt ever missed being Daddy. 

He took a seat on the chair in the corner of Blaine’s room, not sure what to do for the next few hours. He could play a game on his Xbox, but he didn’t want to leave Blaine alone in case he woke up. Sighing, Finn took his phone out of his pocket and played Angry Birds while he waited for Blaine to show signs of awakening.

It didn’t take long. Blaine awoke with a whimper, struggling out of bed to stumble towards the bathroom. Finn shoved his phone into his pocket, following Blaine to see that the he had dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. Finn knelt next to the little boy, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words while Blaine heaved. Blaine couldn’t throw much of anything up because of his lack of food intake lately, but he still felt awful. By the end of his puking episode, he was in tears. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” soothed Finn, cuddling Blaine to his chest. 

“Owwww,” whined Blaine, clutching his stomach. Sobs wracked his body, making everything hurt even more. He hadn’t thought that was possible, but apparently it was. 

Finn held a wad of toilet paper up to Blaine’s nose. “Blow, munchkin,” he ordered.

Blaine allowed Finn to wipe his nose, coughing weakly. Finn helped him stand up and brush his teeth, carrying the little boy back to the bedroom. 

“No more sleep,” coughed Blaine, rubbing his eyes. He was tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to really sleep. 

“Okay, buddy. Do you want to watch a movie after I check your temperature?” Finn offered, snagging the thermometer off the bedside table before setting Blaine on the bed. 

“Uh huh, please. But no ‘mometer? Just checkeded it,” said Blaine, giving Finn the puppy dog eyes. 

“It’s just something we need to do, munchkin. It’s not that big of a deal, see?” said Finn, quickly slipping the thermometer in the boy’s ear. 

Blaine wiggled unhappily, grabbing Winkses and cuddling the toy under his chin. “No more,” he groused, pushing at Finn’s hands. 

“Blaine Anderson, you stop that. We use our nice manners,” reprimanded Finn, fixing Blaine with a look. 

Bursting into tears, Blaine scrambled into Finn’s lap, clutching helplessly to his shirt. Slightly taken aback, Finn wrapped his arms around the weepy little boy, trying to get him to calm down. Blaine was often tearful when he was little, but not this bad. Finn guessed maybe it was part of being sick. Fortunately, Blaine didn’t get sick too often. 

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry, I be good. You not leave? Please?” Blaine begged, burrowing closer. He looked pleadingly up at Finn, his large hazel eyes shining. 

“Munchkin, I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave you,” murmured Finn, rocking back and forth. He didn’t want Blaine all worked up again. “You’re okay, buddy, you’re fine.”

Blaine’s sobs tapered off until it was only an occasional sniffle. He started to wipe his nose with the back of his hand, but Finn intercepted him with a tissue. Sniffing sadly, Blaine fell silent. 

“I think we need to get you changed, huh?” said Finn. He could feel Blaine’s wet pull-up, and it was starting to leak.

Blushing brightly, Blaine stuck his thumb in his mouth. “’kay,” he garbled, allowing Finn to lay him on the changing pad. 

“Where do you keep your PJs, Blaine?” asked Finn, crossing the room to Blaine’s dresser. 

“Bottom drawer,” Blaine said quietly, pointing. 

“Thank you, munchkin,” said Finn, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and setting them on the bed. 

He pulled off the sodden pull-up, placing it in a plastic bag, and wiped Blaine down, hesitating before putting him in a diaper. Blaine whined and blushed at that; diapers were usually only for when he was naughty, but he didn’t want another leaky pull-up. He wasn’t even sure he could really walk to the bathroom without falling over anymore. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, kiddo. It’s just so you can be more comfortable,” assured Finn. 

Blaine nodded unhappily. He wasn’t that little. Dumb virus or whatever he had. 

Finn smiled at the grumpy little boy, disposing of everything and washing his hands before sliding the new pajama pants onto Blaine and throwing the damp ones into the laundry. 

“I think it’s time to watch a movie, huh?” said Finn, picking up Blaine and tickling his tummy a little. 

Giggling, Blaine nodded. “Forgetted Winkses!” said Blaine fretfully, pointing at the elephant that was lying on the bed. 

“Oh no! We can’t forget Winkses, now can we?” laughed Finn, handing Blaine the toy. 

“Nuh uh. Winkses would get sad and run ‘way,” Blaine said seriously, holding onto Winkses tightly. 

“We wouldn’t want that, I guess,” said Finn, going down the stairs.

Settling Blaine onto the couch wrapped in a blanket, Finn went into the kitchen and filled a sippy cup with water. He handed the plastic cup to Blaine who took it gratefully.

Finn jumped when he felt his phone buzz. It was a text from Sam asking Finn to pick him up after school. 

“We watch TV?” Blaine asked.

“Sure we can, munchkin. Is it okay if Sam comes over after school again?” Finn asked, turning on the TV and changing the channel to Spongebob. 

Blaine looked unsure. “He okay wif me?” he asked timidly. 

Finn smiled at the little boy. “Sam’s completely okay with you, Blaine.”

“He c’n come if’n he wants,” said Blaine, curling up and turning towards the TV. 

Sighing, Finn decided to ignore Blaine’s dodging tactics for now. Maybe the best thing to do was to show Blaine that they were permanent? In the meantime, it would be a good idea to get some food into Blaine. Malnourishment on top of everything was not going to help the little boy get better. 

Finn decided on saltines and a popsicle. It wasn’t the healthiest thing (and certainly not up to Daddy standards), but Blaine couldn’t really keep anything down anyways. Setting everything on a plate, Finn took it back into the living room. 

“Try and eat these, munchkin,” he said, showing Blaine the food. 

Blaine brightened at the sight of the popsicle. Daddy almost never let him eat them; he said they were full of artificial junk and would stunt his growth. He doubted he’d grow anymore even without the popsicles, but that argument never seemed to satisfy Kurt. Sticking it in his mouth, Blaine was a sticky mess in no time. 

“All done, Uncle Finn,” said Blaine, showing Finn the purple stained popsicle stick. 

“I see that,” Finn said, scrubbing at the little boy’s hands and face with a damp paper towel. 

Scowling, Blaine tried to wiggle away. Nobody ever understood that he didn’t like having his skin rubbed off! Didn’t they know skin was the biggest organ of the body? And it protected from germs and stuff. Something that important didn’t need five layers rubbed off every time he got a little dirty. Besides, Nightbird needed skin for fighting bad guys!

“Oww, too hard,” Blaine complained, sniffing partially at the injustice and partly because his nose was running again. 

Finn rolled his eyes affectionately. “I’m all done, munchkin. Try to eat some of the crackers, too.”

“’kay,” Blaine said, picking up a cracker and nibbling at it. 

After just over an hour of Spongebob, Finn clicked off the TV. Blaine had fallen asleep, an unfinished cracker still in hand. Finn checked his phone. It was almost time to go pick up Sam. He decided to bring Blaine along for the ride so he wouldn’t have to risk him waking up and getting into trouble. Until then, Finn had time for a phone call. 

“Kurt?” Finn asked when the phone was picked up. 

“Finn! Is Blaine okay? You said you’d call last night after he went to bed!” said Kurt, sounding outraged. He might not be Blaine’s daddy anymore, but he still cared about him. 

“Oh yeah… sorry. But listen… can you come to Lima over your spring break? Please? I really think you and Blaine need to work things out,” pleaded Finn. 

“I don’t know. I forgive him, really, but I can’t be what he wants me to be right now.”

Kurt paused. “He said he was fine.”

“Kurt, he’s not eating again.”

Silence. Shit. Kurt had worked with Blaine for months over the food thing. It wasn’t bad when they first met; Blaine sometimes skipped meals, but it wasn’t big enough for anyone to really confront him about it. When he transferred to Lima, the stress of having to make new friends and of being at a public school again made it more evident. He’d started losing weight, and even health and weight conscious Kurt couldn’t deny that eating only a few carrots all day wasn’t healthy. Sometimes Blaine would have a salad at lunch, but that was on a good day. Even little Blaine had started refusing his favorite treats.

“I’m coming down tomorrow,” said Kurt. “How bad?”

“He said the last time was two days ago. He didn’t say when exactly, though, but I’ve fed him some since,” Finn told him. 

“Oh. I just… I still care about him, but I can’t be with him right now,” Kurt tried to explain. He felt like he was grabbing at straws. He was such a dick. Blaine needed him. For months now, by the sound of it. 

“Kurt, there’s another thing,” said Finn quietly, trying not to wake up Blaine. “I was helping him put on pajamas last night and he had red marks all over his chest. Like he was scratching at himself or something.”

Kurt paled. Blaine had some problems with self-harm, but that hadn’t been a problem for almost a year. He sighed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. 

“Okay. Look, I have to go now, I need to call Isabelle and let her know I’ll be gone. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Finn nodded before he realized Kurt couldn’t actually see him over the phone. “Yeah. I’ll see you. Have a good trip, little bro,” he said. 

“Don’t call me that. Good bye, Finn,” replied Kurt, hanging up. 

Thank god. Hopefully Kurt could help Blaine. If he couldn’t, Finn didn’t know if anyone could. 

Going over to rub Blaine’s back, Finn prodded him awake. “We need to go pick up Sam now, buddy,” he said, helping a sleepy Blaine sit up. 

“Carry,” Blaine demanded, holding out his arms and not bothering to really open his eyes all the way. 

Finn obliged, lifting Blaine onto his hip where the little boy wrapped his legs around Finn’s body like a little monkey. Snagging the blanket and Winkses, Finn carried Blaine out to the car and tucked him into the back seat. He wrapped the blanket around Blaine’s limp body and nestled Winkses inside the warm fleece cocoon. 

Blaine slept through most of the car ride, rousing when Sam got into the front seat long enough to say hi and promptly fall back to sleep. 

Sam grinned. “He really is adorable, though,” he told Finn, buckling his seat belt. 

Smiling, Finn nodded. “Yeah, he is. I got Kurt to come to Ohio over spring break.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, dude?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. How was bringing Blaine’s ex-boyfriend back going to make him feel any better? 

“There are things that Blaine needs to work out, and he needs Kurt to do that,” Finn defended, glancing back at Blaine. 

Sam hummed, not fully convinced. It didn’t sound like a good idea, but Finn knew Blaine a lot better than he did. 

The rest of the car ride was relatively quiet; Finn didn’t mention Kurt again and Sam didn’t ask. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though. To be honest, Sam was kind of grateful for it. That algebra test had been hell, and small talk was almost sure to include school. 

Finn pulled into the driveway then went to carry Blaine into the house. The little boy stirred a little bit but was otherwise pliant. Finn silently thanked whatever deity that was up there that Blaine’s house didn’t have any close neighbors; otherwise Blaine would have to stumble around the driveway to get inside. 

Sam followed the two of them inside, setting his backpack down in the foyer. It made a dull echo when it hit the ground, and Sam once again wondered what it must be like to come home to an empty house every day. 

Taking Blaine into the kitchen, Finn set him down at the bar counter. The chairs had back rests on them so the little boy wouldn’t fall off, and it was close enough that Finn could keep an eye on him while he heated up some soup. 

Blaine ate unresistingly, resting his forehead against Finn’s arm when he had finished his food and sticking his thumb in his mouth. 

“He’s not usually this quiet, right?” Sam asked, a little worried. The day before, Blaine had been pretty peppy, if not considerably ill. 

“No, he’s not. I think he’s just tired, huh munchkin?” said Finn, pushing Blaine’s curls out of his face. 

Blaine shrugged, staring at the two of them with wide eyes. 

“I think somebody needs to take a nap,” Finn said, standing up with Blaine. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam nodded, smiling at Blaine. The little boy just stared at him. Hopefully this was just him getting better. Blaine would be back to his bouncy self in no time. 

Sam was actually correct in his prediction. When Blaine woke up, he was feeling much better. His nose was still a little stuffy, but he didn’t feel like throwing up all the time anymore. 

“We play Rayman?” Blaine asked eagerly. “P’ease?” 

Finn nodded. “Of course we can play Rayman,” he said, setting up the Xbox. 

“Dude, I call Globox,” said Sam, snatching a controller for himself and handing one to Blaine. 

“I wanna be Teensies. Uncle Finn, you be Rayman,” ordered Blaine. 

Finn grinned. Rayman was awesome. “I think I can do that.”

After just over an hour of playing the colorful video game, Finn switched off the Xbox. 

“It’s time for dinner, munchkin,” he announced. 

Sam and Blaine groaned. “We was havin’ fun, though,” Blaine complained. 

Sam wanted to agree, but something told him it would just make Blaine have a fit. “It’s time to eat, though,” he said. “Maybe we can have popsicles afterwards?” 

“We can definitely have popsicles after you eat your dinner, Blaine,” said Finn, nodding at Sam. 

Blaine made his best thinking face. “Ummmmm… we has some soup, then pops’cles?” 

“You want more soup?” Finn said, digging out a can from the pantry. “Go sit with Sam at the counter, please, munchkin.”

Blaine dragged Sam over to the bar stools, directing Sam to sit. He them clambered up into Sam’s lap, trying his best not to elbow him in the stomach. 

“You like soup, Sam?” Blaine asked, poking Sam’s arm and sticking his thumb in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I like soup. Soup is awesome, dude. Plus, it’s great for when you’re sick. Or when the apocalypse is coming.”

Blaine giggled. “There’s no ‘poc’lypse. Da-Kurt said,” Blaine trailed off. 

“Blaine?” said Finn hesitantly. “Kurt is… he’s actually coming down tomorrow to see you.”

Blaine stared. Kurt was… coming to Lima? To see him? It didn’t make any sense. Kurt hadn’t come to Lima in over a month, and even when he had, he hadn’t wanted to see Blaine very much. 

“Why? Why you do this?” Blaine asked, giving Finn an injured look. 

“No, Blaine, it’s not like that. I thought—”

“Kurt not wanna see me! You lyin’, or you tryin’ to trick me!” yelled Blaine, pushing off of Sam’s lap and running out of the kitchen. 

Blaine didn’t stop to see if anyone was following him. He ran up the stairs, ignoring the throbbing in his head that threatened to send him sprawling to the ground. He couldn’t hide in his room. That was too obvious. The guest room’s balcony! Blaine could hide there. Uncle Finn wouldn’t expect him to be there. Daddy didn’t ever let him on the balcony.

“Blaine!” yelled Finn, shocked. He hadn’t thought Blaine would take it so badly. “Shit!”

“Um. Should we go after him?” asked Sam, staring open mouthed at the doorway that Blaine had just ran through. 

“Yeah. He’s probably in his room or something,” said Finn wearily. 

Sam nodded, standing to follow Finn up the stairs. Blaine would be okay. He was just hiding. 

Blaine gripped the railing so tight his knuckles turned white. It would be so easy. So easy to hoist himself over the railing and off the balcony. So easy to not have to exist. He wouldn’t have to live knowing he’d betrayed Kurt. He wouldn’t have to live alone, without anyone who really loved him. 

A breeze caught his curls, making them rustle slightly across his forehead. Blaine wondered if the wind would be able to carry him away. Maybe he could fly. 

“Make me a bird. So I can fly far. Far, far away from here,” he whispered. Quoting Forest Gump might work. Maybe he would actually become a bird, or maybe he could be as brave as Forest. 

“Blaine? Please come out, munchkin,” Blaine heard Finn call. 

Blaine stepped away from the edge of the balcony. He felt so confused. Everything was so messed up. He backed himself against the wall next to the French doors, sliding down to wrap his arms around his knees. Blaine just didn’t know if it was better to fly or to stay right there on the ground. Everything was too hard. 

Finn was starting to panic. “Have you found him?” he asked Sam. 

“No. I looked in his room and in the closets. He’s not in the bathroom either.”

“Blaine!” Finn yelled, running to look in Cooper’s bedroom. 

There were only two other places Blaine could be: the guest room or his parents’ room. Sam hesitated for a second before heading through the door closest to him. It turned out to be the guest room. 

“Blaine?” he said quietly. “Are you in here, dude?” 

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, sniffling pathetically. He felt pathetic. He wasn’t even brave enough to end it. 

Sam froze. He thought he had heard something from the balcony. Praying it wasn’t a serial killer, Sam quietly pushed the French doors open. 

“Blaine?”

A whimper. 

At first, Sam couldn’t detect where the noise had come from. The balcony looked like it was empty except for a potted plant. It wasn’t until he saw movement out of the corner of his eye that Sam discovered Blaine. 

“Hey, what are you doin’ out here, dude?” he asked, sitting down next to Blaine. 

Blaine shrugged. “Dunno…” He held his breath. Should he tell Sam? “I wanted to—to see if I could fly,” he whispered. 

Sam frowned. Fly? People couldn’t fly. Unless he meant—oh. Sam held onto Blaine tightly, barely breathing. He was afraid to let go. 

“Blaine…”

“’m scared, Sam. What if’n Kurt’s just comin’ to say he hates me?”

“Remember what we said? We could be heroes, dude. I know you can be brave, and Kurt’s not gonna say he hates you,” Sam reassured him. “Even if he did, you have so many other people who love you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Blaine mumbled around his thumb. He was stupid and awful.

“Hey, don’t say that,” said Sam. “You’re the gel, remember?”

Blaine shrugged. He didn’t feel like the gel. 

Finn burst through the door, looking like he was going to have a cow. “Jesus, Blaine! Why didn’t you answer me?” 

Blaine stared guiltily at Finn. He looked mad. 

“And you, why didn’t you tell me you’d found him, huh?” said Finn, rounding on Sam. 

“Finn, chill. He’s fine okay? Let’s just get him inside. I have to talk to you,” Sam added, glancing at the little boy. 

Finn raised an eyebrow, reaching down to pick up Blaine. “Let’s get you changed and settled down to watch some cartoons, okay?”

Blaine blushed, but otherwise didn’t show any signs that he’d heard Finn. 

After quickly changing Blaine into dry pants and wrapping him in a blanket in front of the television, Finn followed Sam into the hallway.

“What’s up with Blaine?” Finn asked. 

“He said he wanted to fly, dude. Like, off the side of the balcony.”

Finn gaped at Sam. “He wants to… to kill himself?” he asked, whispering the last part, like saying it too loudly would make it true. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. So I think we should watch him more closely or something.” 

Finn ran his hands through his hair, trying to think. He glanced over at Blaine who was staring blankly over at the television. 

“Are you staying over tonight?” Finn asked suddenly. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess, but really, we—”

“Okay, good. Look, I have to go back to Blaine right now.”

“But, dude—”

“Talking isn’t going to help Blaine right now, Sam. I’m sorry, but if we want to help, we have to do something, not talk about doing it.”

Finn left Sam glaring at him in frustration. 

“Hey munchkin. I’m gonna get your soup and we can watch cartoons while we eat, okay?” said Finn. 

He didn’t get a response, but he went ahead and brought out three bowls of soup. 

“Sam, there’s soup if you want some,” he said to the sulking blonde, giving him a look. It wasn’t going to help Blaine for Sam to be brooding. 

“Thanks,” said Sam, grabbing a bowl and digging into his soup.

Blaine ate his soup without a fuss. The rest of the evening was low key. They watched cartoons for almost an hour before Finn decided it was time for Blaine to go to bed. Both Sam and Finn slept in Blaine’s room that night, Finn in the chair and Sam on the floor. Neither of them had to say why. Finn hoped to god that the next day would be better. Kurt had to be able to make things better. Otherwise, he didn’t know what he was going to do.


	4. Would You Love Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post the last chapter! Things have been going on.

Saturday morning was better. It wasn’t completely normal, but at least Blaine was talking again. Nobody mentioned Kurt until lunchtime. 

“Uncle Finn?” Blaine asked in a small voice, picking at his grilled cheese sandwich. 

“Yeah, munchkin?” Finn answered. He pushed some sheet music aside. It definitely was not the right song for regionals. 

“When Kurt is gonna get here?” Blaine inquired, staring hard at his plate. 

Sam looked up from his phone, mid-text. 

Finn looked at Blaine. “In a few hours. Around four, kiddo. Do you want to come with Uncle Finn to pick him up?”

Blaine shrugged. He did, but then again he didn’t. Kurt might take one look at him and leave. He didn’t want to ruin Kurt’s visit to Lima. 

Finn felt bad about forcing an answer from Blaine, but they had worked so hard on getting Blaine to express what he wanted in words. “That’s not an answer, munchkin. Grownups don’t speak in shrug. Yes or no, please.”

“I ‘unno,” Blaine mumbled, sneaking his thumb up to his mouth. “Sam go?”

Sam glanced at Finn before saying, “That depends, dude. If you’re going, I’m going. If you’re staying, I’m gonna stay here with you.”

“You not hafta stay wif me if you wanna go see Kurt,” said Blaine around his thumb. 

“Blaine, you know Kurt’s gonna come here to see you, right?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. 

Blaine chewed on his thumb worriedly. He shrugged again, unsure of how he was supposed to answer. Finn sighed, reaching over to pull Blaine’s thumb from his mouth. He tapped the little boy’s nose in admonishment. 

“No chewing, munchkin. You’ll hurt yourself,” he said. “I think you should come with Uncle Finn, okay? That way you don’t have to make big choices all by yourself.”

Nodding, Blaine returned to his half eaten grilled cheese. Sam gave Finn a look before going back to typing out a message to Brittany. 

After lunch it was time for Blaine’s nap. Per usual, it didn’t go down without a fuss. Naptime might have been easy while Blaine was too sick to put up a fight, but now that he was feeling better, Finn had to deal with the whining and pouting. 

“But ‘m not tired,” Blaine argued, crossing his arms over his chest, bottom lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Mhm,” said Finn, looking skeptically at the dark circles under the shorter boy’s eyes. “I’m pretty sure only tired little boys are so grouchy. Come on, Blaine, you need to take a nap before we go pick up Kurt.”

“No. Not. Wanna. Nap,” Blaine stated, stomping his foot on the last word. 

“Blaine Devon, you do not stop your feet at grownups,” admonished Finn, landing a swat at Blaine’s backside. 

While Blaine was momentarily stunned by the swat, Finn lifted him onto his hip. “Come on, munchkin. We’re gonna get you to bed and read a story. Do you want Velveteen Rabbit or The Giving Tree?” Finn asked conversationally. 

“Don’t wanna nap,” Blaine insisted, glaring at Uncle Finn even as he clung to the other boy’s shirt. 

Finn hummed. “I heard. But what story would you like?”

“Velv’teen,” Blaine groused, accepting Winkses when he was set on the bed. 

Luckily for Finn, Blaine calmed down in the time it took him to change the little boy into a pull up and track down the requested book. Picking up from where they had left off the other day, Finn started to read. He just barely made it to the end of the book before Blaine was sound asleep. 

Finn tiptoed from the bedroom and nearly jumped out of his skin. Sam was waiting for him right outside the door. 

“Wholy shit!” Finn hissed. “What the hell, dude? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry,” Sam said, not sounding all that sorry. “Do you think he’s better?”

Finn started to shrug before he stopped himself. He might as well practice what he preached. “I dunno. He’s more perceptive today, at least.”

Sam nodded. “Okay… well, did you find any good songs for regionals?” 

The change in topic was a welcome alteration for both of them. As much as Finn loved Blaine, he was a handful, and taking care of him for more than a day was stressful. Talking about normal things like glee club and their set list helped him to feel a little bit less strung out. 

The two of them were in a heated discussion over whether to perform a ballad or a duet for their opening number when they first heard Blaine stir. They had moved from the hallway to the library next to Blaine’s bedroom, so Blaine didn’t have to wait long before Finn came in. 

“Hey, munchkin. You ready to get up?” Finn asked gently, rubbing the little boy’s back. 

Blaine yawned widely, leaning heavily against Finn’s side. “Uh huh,” he mumbled, sucking on his thumb. 

“Let’s get you changed into some dry pants before we leave, okay kiddo?” narrated Finn, gathering the changing supplies. 

Blaine was changed out of his wet pull up and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before he was fully awake. He was lifted onto Finn’s hip, still clutching Winkses close, and they went into the library to notify Sam of their approaching departure. 

“Dude, we have to leave soon if we don’t want Kurt to bite our heads off for being late,” Finn said, shifting Blaine so he would be more comfortable. 

“Okay,” said Sam, standing up and stretching out his back. “Do you think Blaine might want to have a jacket or something? It’s kinda cold out today.”

“Oh, right,” Finn said, looking embarrassed. 

He set Blaine on one of the leather chairs before going back into the little boy’s room to grab a worn Dalton sweatshirt.

“Arms up, buddy,” Finn instructed. 

Blaine complied, briefly releasing his tight grip on Winkses to allow Finn to pull the sweatshirt over his head, mussing up his curls even further than they had been before. 

“Okay… anything else we need?” asked Finn.

“Nope. Just shoes I guess,” said Sam, starting downstairs. 

Finn led Blaine down the stairs and helped him hunt down his shoes and tie the laces. Little Blaine wasn’t so good with tying shoes. More than once, Blaine had tied them wrong and ended up tripping two feet out the door. Finally, Kurt had decided that tying shoes was the grownups’ job. 

Finn herded the other two boys out to the car, vetoing Sam’s request to drive. He buckled Blaine into the backseat, making sure that the little boy still had Winkses. Once he was absolutely certain that they weren’t going to experience any tantrums about lost toys, Finn backed out of the driveway.

Fortunately for Finn, they arrived five minutes early; otherwise, he would have been in for a storm of annoyed Kurt bitching about the importance of promptness and “We’ve been over this a million times Finn Hudson!” 

Blaine stared out of the tinted window anxiously, clutching Winkses so hard that his hands were starting to hurt. 

“When Kurt gonna get here?” he asked Finn. 

Glancing at the dashboard clock, Finn said, “About five more minutes, munchkin. How about we play I Spy while we wait?”

“No fank you,” mumbled Blaine, reverting back to watching the front of the airport intently. 

Not long after, Sam spotted the familiar figure of Kurt Hummel wading through the crowd, scarf fanning out slightly in the breeze. 

Blaine stared open mouthed at his ex-boyfriend through the window. They’d talked on the phone a couple of times, but he hadn’t actually seen Kurt in nearly two months. Seeing Kurt smiling like that and walking towards their car made Blaine feel like there was a bag of bricks sitting square on his chest. When Kurt opened up the door to the back seat, Blaine snapped out of it and hid his face behind Winkses. 

“I can sit in the back if you want,” offered Sam, sensing the little boy’s discomfort. 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “I can sit with Blaine, thank you very much, Sam.”

Finn scoffed. “Long flight?”

“You wouldn’t believe the traffic. The airport in New York was completely packed with tourists and people trying to get home for the break. I’m lucky my flight didn’t run late,” said Kurt with a dramatic sigh. “But anyways, I’m here now. How are things at home, Finn?”

“They’re good. Burt is trying to be a lot healthier. Mom’s making a lot of organic vegetable casseroles and stuff, so I mostly eat at school. Puck actually took up a couple of classes so he isn’t just hanging out at the dorms now.”

“Glee club is preparing for regionals,” added Sam. “We’re deciding between a ballad and a duet for our opening number.”

Kurt nodded. “Definitely a ballad. Something big to impress the judges right away.” He paused, giving Blaine a sidelong glance, before saying, “What about you, Blaine? I heard you weren’t feeling too good, huh, sweetie.”

Blushing deeply, Blaine moved Winkses so as to better hide his face. “Uh huh. Was icky, but ‘m better today.”

The rest of the drive back to Blaine’s house consisted of conversation mainly between the grownups. Blaine answered questions when he was asked, but otherwise he stayed hidden behind his stuffed elephant. 

“I found this new recipe for salmon and risotto that I’ve been dying to try out, but Rachel won’t eat fish. Do you mind if I cook dinner tonight?” Kurt asked Blaine. 

Living with a vegan was more difficult than he’d anticipated, but it wasn’t really a matter of Rachel fussing over meat and dairy products. Because most of the recipes Kurt made resulted in pretty large servings, it just wasn’t worth it to spend over an hour cooking only to have just him enjoy the meal. Santana would occasionally eat with them, but she usually spent her evenings at the bar where she worked. Being home in Lima was a nice change in pace. 

Blaine shook his head tensely. “Don’t care. You c’n cook whatever you want,” he mumbled. 

Finn parked the car as close to the front door as he could. Kurt might not have a lot of bags with him, but the ones that he did have were heavy. He was always prepared in case of a fashion emergency, which Finn didn’t really understand but decided not to fight Kurt on. 

Kurt had to stop himself from lifting Blaine out of the car. He hadn’t been Daddy in close to a year, but it still felt weird to let Finn take over with little Blaine. 

“Let’s get you inside munchkin. You can watch some cartoons while Kurt makes us dinner, okay?” narrated Finn, lifting the little boy onto his hip. He didn’t want Blaine to be running all over the place when he still wasn’t completely up to speed. 

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He wanted to ask exactly how much screen time Blaine had gotten in the last couple of days, but he figured it would just cause unwanted trouble. He had to keep reminding himself that just because Blaine was little didn’t mean Kurt was Daddy. 

Sam helped Kurt haul his bags into the Anderson house while Finn wrapped Blaine in his blanket and settled him on the couch. 

“Where Kurt staying, Uncle Finn?” asked Blaine, brow furrowed with worry. 

“He’s gonna stay with all of us over here for tonight, then we’re going back to our parents’ house tomorrow. If you’re ready to be big,” Finn added. 

Blaine tried to tell himself to breathe. He’d be okay on his own. He’d been on his own since Cooper moved out. It wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. 

Finn interrupted Blaine’s panic, saying, “You’re coming with us, munchkin. You don’t have to spend the break alone.”

Blaine sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “’kay,” he said quietly, holding tight to Finn’s shirt. 

At that moment, Kurt and Sam came in, hauling two bags that looked about to burst. 

“I don’t see why you need both bags if you’re only staying here for one night,” Sam muttered. 

“These bags have my moisturizers in them,” said Kurt, giving the other boy a pointed look. 

He frowned when he caught sight of his little boy and Finn. 

Setting the bag he was carrying down in the foyer, Kurt went over to sit by Blaine. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked, running a hand through Blaine’s messy curls. It looked like Finn wasn’t brushing Blaine’s hair properly, if at all. 

Blaine shrunk away from Kurt, seeking refuge against Finn’s shirt. Kurt tried not to feel too hurt. It was complicated, and Blaine was confused. Hell, Kurt was confused. He wanted so much to let his daddy instincts take over and wrap Blaine up in hugs until he felt better, but he knew that would just make things even more muddled. 

Finn gave Kurt an apologetic look. “Do you need help in the kitchen?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“No thanks. You might burn the house down if I let you help,” replied Kurt not unkindly. 

The clatter of pots and pans was soothing. It helped Kurt deal with the stress that he’d been feeling ever since the breakup. It wasn’t long before he lost himself in his task of cooking rice and marinating the salmon. 

Blaine was quiet again. He sat with Sam on the couch, rubbing one of Winkses’ ears against his cheek, his thumb resting loosely in his mouth. 

“Do you wanna color or something?” Sam asked. “Or we could sing.”

The blond was beginning to become bored. Sure, sitting with his best friend was nice, but they weren’t even talking or anything. Sam needed something to do. 

Blaine shrugged. “Color?” he asked, eyeing the superhero coloring book that daddy had bought him for Christmas when they were still together. 

Sam retrieved the coloring book and enough crayons for the both of them. “What page do you want?” asked Sam, flipping through the book. He totally wanted to color the Hulk. 

“Batman, p’ease,” Blaine answered, pawing through the pile of crayons. He picked one of every color. It didn’t matter that Batman was supposed to be mostly black; everything looked good in rainbow. 

“Batman needsa purple belt and a yellow cape,” Blaine narrated. 

Sam nodded along, not really paying close attention to Blaine’s prattle. 

“Batman likes rainbow striped boots. Is very stylish, like Da-Kurt. Kurt usedta hang my pictures onna wall inna closet. He sayed they was the most beautiful he’d ever seed. Prob’ly not true though. Van Gough’sa good drawer and sos is De’acroix. Why come famous artists is from so long ‘go, Sam?”

“Hmm? Famous artists? I dunno, dude, probably because when you’re dead you’re more appreciated or something,” said Sam, smirking slightly at Blaine’s very colorful Batman. “Your Batman looks really awesome though.”

“Fank you,” mumbled Blaine, blushing a little.

Finn wandered over, plopping himself down next to Blaine. “Whatcha coloring, munchkin?”

“Batman, Uncle Finn,” said Blaine like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

In Finn’s defense, Blaine had turned the picture into a psychedelic swirl of colors that started to swim if he looked at it too long. Finn blinked several times from the shock of it all, then smiled at Blaine. 

“It’s awesome, kiddo. Is Sam helping you?” he asked upon seeing Sam coloring something. 

“Nuh uh, Sam’s colorin’ Hulk,” Blaine told Finn, sniffing slightly. He might have been feeling better, but he was still recovering from the bug he had. 

Handing Blaine a tissue, Finn ordered, “Blow. Good boy. I’m going to go see if Kurt’s done with dinner yet.”

Blaine nodded, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Batman needed more pink…

“Dinners done!” called Kurt a little later, carefully carrying several platters into the dining room. 

Blaine dragged his feet as he went to the bathroom to wash his hands. Dinner with everyone being all happy felt wrong. He could hear Kurt scolding Finn for not putting his napkin in his lap and Sam doing one of his impressions. It felt like the white noise should comfort him, but Blaine felt so disconnected from it. 

Kurt tried not to stare too much at Blaine, who mostly poked at his food for the entire meal. Finn didn’t seem to notice. 

“Honey,” Kurt said quietly, putting his hand over Blaine’s. “Just try some rice, please. You like rice.”

“Tummy hurts,” Blaine mumbled, pulling his hand away and staring determinedly at his plate. “I be done, Uncle Finn?”

Finn frowned when he noticed Blaine’s almost entirely uneaten plate of food. 

“Can you try a few more bites for me, munchkin?”

“Don’t feel good,” said Blaine tearfully. 

Brow furrowed, Finn gave Kurt a look, silently asking what he should do. Kurt shrugged with a sigh. To be honest, he couldn’t really tell if Blaine’s lack of appetite was from being sick or from simply not wanting to eat. 

“Okay… but you need to have a bottle before bed,” Finn said. 

“’kay,” murmured Blaine. 

He got out of his chair in favor of curling onto a surprised Sam’s lap. The other boy, though momentarily fazed, allowed Blaine to sit in his lap for the remainder of the meal. Blaine sucked his thumb, staring at Kurt whenever he wasn’t looking.

Sometimes Kurt caught him staring. Kurt would smile, Blaine would blush, and the game would start all over. It wasn’t what Kurt would have found ideal, but the dinner was nice. He was pleased that Finn didn’t act like a complete Neanderthal, and Sam said the salmon was the best he’d ever tasted. 

Dinner was followed by more catching up and, in Blaine’s case, more coloring. Any of Kurt’s attempts at including the little boy in the conversation were met with short, one word responses followed by stony silence. He could tell Blaine was upset, but he wasn’t exactly sure what about. 

Soon enough, it was the little boy’s bedtime. 

“I think it’s time for tired little boys to go to bed,” said Finn, running a hand through Blaine’s curls. 

Yawning widely, Blaine gathered his crayons into a neat pile. “You read me, Uncle Finn?” he asked as he was hoisted onto Finn’s hip. 

“Mhm. Do you want Kurt to help tuck you in?” 

“No,” Blaine said a little too quickly. “Want you do.”

Kurt did his best to not feel hurt. He sighed, allowing Sam to show him his newest impression of Danny Zuko while Finn fetched a bottle for Blaine.

“I gonna be big tomorrow,” Blaine announced when Finn was changing him into a pull up. 

Finn paused. “Are you sure? You don’t have to be big.”

Blaine nodded vehemently. “I be big. We gonna go to you and Kurt’s house, so I gotta be big.”

Finn couldn’t very well argue with that. Burt and his mom were pretty open people, but he didn’t think they’d understand… that.

“I little now, but big tomorrow,” Blaine clarified, holding Winkses tightly. 

Nodding, Finn pulled the little boy into a hug. “Okay munchkin. What would you like to read? How about Winnie the Pooh?”

“’kay. I likes Pooh Bear,” yawned Blaine, accepting the bottle that Finn offered him. 

Listening to stories about Pooh Bear and his friends soothed Blaine’s frazzled nerves a little. By the time Finn was done reading the second story, Blaine’s breathing had evened out and the bottle had fallen from his mouth. 

Finn kissed the little boy’s head. He liked little Blaine a lot, but it would be nice to have big Blaine back again. Big Blaine was probably less likely to try and throw himself off the balcony, at least. The very thought made a lump for in Finn’s throat, but he was able to keep it down. Kurt and Blaine would work things out. 

“Is he okay?” Kurt asked as soon as Finn came traipsing down the stairs. 

“Yeah, tired I guess. He says he’s gonna be big tomorrow.”

Sam frowned, tilting his head to the side a little. “Will he still color superheroes? I didn’t finish mine.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. I hope you know that. Besides, you could just ask Britt and I’m sure she’d be happy to color the entire universe with you.” He turned to Finn, arms crossed. “You’re not leaving him alone tonight or I’m mistaken in my assumption that you have more brains than my Prada bag.”

Making a face at Kurt’s cutting remark, Finn sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I can stay with him tonight. Unless you think you can grow a pair and actually help Blaine out by being there for him.”

Stunned into momentary silence, Kurt could only stare at his step-brother. Sam inhaled sharply and looked between the two of them anxiously. When Kurt finally regained his bearings, his bitchface was back at full force. 

“I am there for Blaine, Finn Hudson, and I always will be. He can come to me with anything, he just hasn’t and I can’t—” sputtered Kurt. 

“Yeah, well, if you’ve been ‘there for him’ like you say you are, Blaine doesn’t seem to know that. So tell him. Make sure he understands that because he really thinks you hate him, Kurt,” Finn said. 

Kurt frowned guiltily. Maybe Finn was right. Actually, he probably was right. Kurt wasn’t Blaine’s daddy anymore, but he still cared about his ex-boyfriend. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he got why Blaine cheated. It didn’t lessen the pain, but he got it. After all, barely a year ago it had been Kurt that felt like his boyfriend had been distancing himself from him. 

Sinking into an armchair with a sigh, Kurt ran a hand through his perfectly sculpted hair. “I’ll stay with Blaine tonight,” he said quietly.

“Okay. Don’t forget that Burt wants us over for breakfast,” Finn said gently, heading towards the kitchen with Sam.

“Finn?” called Kurt. “Thank you.” 

Kurt completed his nightly skincare routine in the bathroom down the hall from Blaine’s bedroom so he wouldn’t wake the other boy up. After he had finished, he stood quietly in Blaine’s doorway, watching him sleep. Thumb resting in his mouth and one arm wrapped tightly around Winkses and his blanket, Blaine slept soundly. Smiling slightly, Kurt simply watched. His baby. But not quite. 

Blaine woke up to the strange sensation of having a wet pull-up but knowing he was supposed to be big. He rolled over to go change only to find Kurt staring right at him, already dressed and perched on the edge of Blaine’s chair with his legs crossed. 

“Good morning,” Kurt greeted, offering Blaine a smile. 

“Uh, morning,” mumbled Blaine, sliding out from under his covers to shuffle awkwardly in the direction of his bathroom. “’scuse me for a moment, I have to change.”

“Okay. We’re leaving in half an hour to go to my dad and Carole’s house for breakfast,” Kurt called after him. 

Blaine made quick work of his wet pull-up and donned a pair of jeans that he grabbed on his way to the bathroom. Still shirtless, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes traced the light scars across his chest and stomach, making him shiver. Making the scars had felt good, but looking at them afterwards always gave him such a sense of shame. Blaine bit his lip, trying to get ahold of himself. He pulled on his sweater after washing his face and brushing his teeth, steeling himself for the inevitable “talk” that was coming. 

Kurt had left his bedroom by the time Blaine emerged and was waiting with Sam and Finn in the living room, watching the news. 

“… and that’s how Sue sees it…”

“So Coach Sylvester is crazy as ever, huh,” said Kurt in an amused voice.

Sam nodded emphatically. “Yeah, Blaine said she makes the cheerios drink those weird smoothies or they have to wear those dog cone things.”

Blaine went over to sit next to Sam. “It’s true. I only escape it because I have glee club on smoothie days.”

“That’s crazy, dude,” Finn said, shaking his head. 

“That is kind of insane, but if we’re late for breakfast that makes us insane,” stated Kurt, gesturing to the grandfather clock. He was right. If they didn’t leave soon, they were in danger of an angry Carole lecture. 

“Oh, right. Guess we should leave now or something,” said Finn, heading for the front door. 

They were nearly ready to leave when Kurt remembered he had brought his bags inside for the night. “Can someone help me with my stuff? It’ll go a lot faster if there are two of us, instead of just me,” requested Kurt.

“I can help,” Blaine offered, hopping out of the backseat of the car. 

The two of them headed back into the Anderson household in a not quite comfortable silence. 

“Carole is making homemade waffles. I know they’re your favorite,” started Kurt, giving Blaine a sideways glance as he bent to haul a bag into his arms. 

“You remembered,” smiled Blaine, lifting up a bag of his own and pausing on their way out to lock the door. “Finn’s mom makes the best waffles. My mom used to make them sometimes on the weekends, but she’s usually too busy…”

“Her job is pretty demanding,” said Kurt, leading the way back to the car. Finn had the trunk opened for them already, so Kurt simply set his precious cargo inside. 

“I guess so. She used to be able to find time to spend time with us, though,” Blaine sighed, shrugging. He deposited Kurt’s designer bag into the trunk next to its companion and moved to the side of the car to hold open the door for Kurt. 

“Thanks,” Kurt said, sliding into the back seat. “She got promoted, you said. She probably just has a lot of extra work to do.”

“Maybe,” said Blaine quietly. 

He twisted in his seat to watch his house get smaller and smaller as they left for Burt and Carole’s house. It reminded him of the day Cooper left for college, except the other way around. Blaine had stood in the front of his house, watching Cooper and his car grow smaller and smaller until they disappeared altogether. 

It was one of the many times that Kurt wished Blaine lived closer to Lima. The car ride was killing him, and Finn had the radio turned to that revolting station that had a policy of only playing music about either banging girls or looking at ass. 

“Can you please change the radio to something civilized?” Kurt begged for the third time. 

“No way, dude! I like this song,” Finn whined. 

“You cannot tell me you enjoy this… this ‘music’,” Kurt muttered, rounding on Sam. “What about you? You don’t actually like this do you?”

Sam shrugged, carefully avoiding Kurt’s glare in the rearview mirror. “I dunno,” he said noncommittally. 

“It’s making my head hurt,” Blaine whispered distantly, staring out of the window.

“Sorry, dude,” Finn apologized, switching off the radio. 

“So you change it for Blaine, but not for me. I see how it is,” Kurt snapped, only partly joking. One would think that after being in the glee club, Finn would have developed a decent taste in music. 

Finn heaved a sigh. Having Kurt as a brother was… challenging. The dude didn’t even like to play video games. Everyone Finn had ever met liked to play video games. Even Rachel. Kind of. Well, she said she liked playing video games with Finn, but usually she opted for “watching” him play while she read Vogue or something. 

Luckily for everyone involved, Finn managed to get them to his and Kurt’s parents’ house minus the trashy pop music. Carole greeted them cheerily at the door, pulling her stepson in for a hug.

“Kurt, honey, we’ve missed you so much! You have to come back home more often.”

“I know, I miss you too. I’ve been trying, but NYADA’s workload and the costs…” 

Carole smiled knowingly. It wasn’t cheap to fly from New York to Ohio, especially with Kurt’s expensive wardrobe. 

“And Blaine!” she exclaimed. “You look pale, sweetheart.”

Blaine shook Carole’s hand and smiled politely. “I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather, but I’m much better now,” he reassured her.

“Come on, we probably have another half hour before breakfast is finished,” whispered Kurt, taking Blaine’s hand and pulling him towards the stairs.

Blaine followed reluctantly, casting a longing glance towards Finn and Sam who were getting their fair share of welcoming hugs. 

Kurt led Blaine into his old bedroom and motioned for him to sit down on the bed. “Are you feeling better?” he asked. 

“I guess. My head still kind of hurts, though,” Blaine shrugged. 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Kurt moved to sit next to Blaine, taking his hand. He looked into Blaine’s eyes, and was startled to find they looked empty. 

Shifting his gaze to the floor, Blaine tried to pull his hand away, but Kurt wasn’t having it. 

“I don’t know, Kurt. Okay? I don’t know. And why would you care?” 

The anger behind Blaine’s voice surprised himself. Then again, it didn’t. 

“Blaine, look at me,” Kurt pleaded. He waited for Blaine to return his gaze before continuing, “I do care about you. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, but I care.”

“Why should you? Nobody else does. I don’t deserve it anyways,” Blaine mumbled bitterly. He tried once again to pull his hand from Kurt’s grip, and when that didn’t work he shifted so he was sitting farther away from Kurt. 

“Blaine, sweetie. Don’t say that. It’s not true, remember? I’m never saying goodbye to you. Never.”

Blaine glared at Kurt. How could he lie like that? If they’d constituted anything in the time they had dated, it was that they always told each other the truth. 

Kurt sighed, frustrated. “I don’t understand, Blaine. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re lying to me! You’ve already left once, why should I trust you again?” 

“You trust me!” Kurt paused, taking a deep breath. It wouldn’t help to bring up Blaine sleeping with Eli. “Blaine, I’ve forgiven you. You know that. Why can’t you trust me?” 

“Even if I do trust you again, you don’t want me, Kurt,” Blaine snapped, finally succeeding in pulling his hand out of Kurt’s. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, turning away from his former boyfriend. 

After a moment of silence, Kurt responded quietly, “That’s not true.”

Blaine couldn’t help but turn his gaze back to Kurt. He might be saying it wasn’t true, but Blaine had been lied to before. Kurt was giving him that look that said “I’m just trying to spare your feelings, but I don’t really care about you.” Blaine had been on the receiving end of that look more times than he could count. 

“Blaine, please. If you won’t trust me, let me show you.”

“Kurt, I spent months trying to make you want me again. Months. I want to move on. Please let me move on,” Blaine begged. 

Kurt didn’t know what to say anymore. He couldn’t make Blaine see that he was still his missing puzzle piece. As far as Blaine was concerned, they wasn’t even in the same puzzle anymore. Closing his eyes, Kurt tried to think. What was he supposed to say? He opened his eyes to find Blaine rubbing furiously at his eyes, like he was trying but failing to keep back tears. 

Maybe Kurt couldn’t say anything to make things better, but maybe he could do something. With that resolve in mind, Kurt swiftly moved closer to Blaine and caught his ex-boyfriend’s face in his hand. 

“Blaine Devon Anderson, I love you, and that’s never going to change,” Kurt whispered fiercely, capturing Blaine’s mouth in a kiss. 

The suddenness of the kiss elicited a small gasp from Blaine. He stared at Kurt with wide eyes, too shocked to move for a few seconds, before he pulled away. 

“W-what? Kurt?” he stuttered, trying to make sense of everything. 

Kurt shushed him, drawing a slim finger across Blaine’s lips. “Please, just let me show you. Can I show you?” 

Blaine rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted it. He wanted Kurt, but was it worth the risk? It could all be a lie. 

Stroking Blaine’s jaw with one hand and using the other to pull the confused boy closer to him, Kurt smiled softly. “Stop thinking so hard. Just relax.”

Blaine nodded. The person that he trusted the most. The person that he had betrayed. Who had betrayed him. Maybe Kurt was lying, but it would be nice to at least pretend. 

It was almost imperceptible, but Kurt took that tiny nod to heart. Blaine was willing to open himself again, finally, after all those months, and Kurt was sure as hell going to try his hardest to show him it was worth it. Tangling a hand into Blaine’s only partially gelled hair, Kurt pulled him so close that their chests were separated only by the thin layers of their clothes. 

Blaine’s lips melded against Kurt’s and it felt right. “I love you so much,” Kurt breathed. 

“I love you too,” said Blaine so quietly that Kurt almost missed it. 

After that, they didn’t speak. It was only familiar touches and warm looks. They had shared so many kisses in the past year and a half, but Kurt couldn’t remember one, excluding their first, that had felt so intimate. 

Somehow they ended up lying on the bed, Kurt hovering over Blaine’s body, face flushed. That was how Finn found them when he came upstairs to announce breakfast was ready. 

“Kurt, breakfast is—oh uh, um, sorry. B-breakfast is ready,” Finn said awkwardly before hurrying back downstairs. 

Kurt laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes. “I guess we should go eat.”

Blaine shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe we could skip,” he replied. 

Rolling his eyes, Kurt pushed himself up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “As much as I enjoy making out with you, we really have to go down.”

Pouting slightly, Blaine sat up and adjusted his sweater. “Fine. I suppose it wouldn’t be proper to ditch everyone.”

As Kurt was making his way out the door, Blaine caught his wrist in his hand. “Wait,” he said, suddenly serious. “What about… what about Adam?” 

Kurt turned so he was looking Blaine straight in the eye. “Adam and I aren’t exclusive. He knows that.”

“But do you love him?” Blaine asked, thinly veiled worry shadowing his eyes. 

“I like Adam,” Kurt confessed. “But I love you, Blaine. You make me feel like a teenage dream.”

Blaine laughed. “Kurt? Thank you,” he said softly. 

Kurt nodded, unsure of what Blaine was thanking him for. He tugged on the shorter boy’s hand, ushering him through the doorway and into the hall. 

“Come on, now. Carole’s amazing waffles are waiting.”

The waffles were definitely amazing. Blaine couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good homemade breakfast. Plus, the maple syrup was the real kind, not the cheap stuff and not the substitute that Kurt made Blaine use when he was still Daddy. 

“So Blaine,” Carole started. “Finn tells me you’re staying here for spring break. It’s nice having you around again.”

“Oh, did he?” Blaine said, giving Finn a look. “It’s nice to be here again, Mrs. Hudson. Your breakfast tastes amazing.”

Carole beamed. “Oh, thank you, honey. Finn used to say I should start a waffle company when he was little. He wanted to run the machines,” she laughed.

Finn blushed a little, trying to sink down into his chair. It didn’t work very well, Blaine thought, as Finn wasn’t exactly small to begin with. 

Kurt stood, offering to take everyone’s plates to the kitchen. “Blaine, do you want to help me with the dishes?” 

Consenting, Blaine followed Kurt to the sink. “I think that was a particularly good batch of waffles. I kind of wish Dad and Carole would buy the healthier syrup replacement, though,” Kurt commented. 

“But that stuff has an aftertaste,” Blaine said, wrinkling his nose. 

Laughing, Kurt bumped Blaine’s shoulder. “Some things never change. I suppose Blaine Anderson will never acquire a taste for fake sugar.”

“Never,” said Blaine vehemently. “Fake sugar is one of the worst inventions of mankind.”

Sam wandered into the kitchen, nodding. “That Hunter guy said Splenda tastes like pencils. He was a jerk, but I sorta have to agree with the dude.”

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. He missed his friends from Lima. Three months without one of Sam or Britt’s amusing remarks was far too long. 

Leaning back on the counter while drying a plate, Kurt watched Blaine and Sam flick bits of soapy water at each other. The sound of some sports commentary drifted into the kitchen from the living room along with the low chatter of his parents and Finn. Looking at Blaine, Kurt was glad that he had decided to make a sudden visit to Lima. He hadn’t seen the boy so relaxed since before Kurt had graduated. It might be a long time before Blaine was really better again, but for now Kurt just wanted to enjoy everything. Especially Blaine.


End file.
